


Sticky sweet

by Ephemera_pop (Alex_Draven)



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M, chubby!Nick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-13
Updated: 2006-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-16 21:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10580106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Draven/pseuds/Ephemera_pop
Summary: He had definitely had a nice warm Nick to wrap around when he'd fallen asleep. Chris was a bit fuzzy, but he was quite sure about that. There had been Nick and now, inexplicably, there was no Nick, just a big cold patch of couch and that fugly throw thing, which he only kept over the back of the couch cos it felt so good to pet when you were stoned, was tucked around him. Chris petted the edge of the throw.Stoned. Oh yes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sticky sweet, un beta-ed, unashamedly schmoopy TrickyNick. What? I was stressed! TrickyNick makes me happy. ;p [For [](http://ravenbat.livejournal.com/profile)[**ravenbat**](http://ravenbat.livejournal.com/) via [fic_requests](http://community.livejournal.com/fic_requests/139549.html?mode=reply)]

He had definitely had a nice warm Nick to wrap around when he'd fallen asleep. Chris was a bit fuzzy, but he was quite sure about that. There had been Nick and now, inexplicably, there was no Nick, just a big cold patch of couch and that fugly throw thing, which he only kept over the back of the couch cos it felt so good to pet when you were stoned, was tucked around him. Chris petted the edge of the throw.

Stoned. Oh yes.

That's what he and Nick had been doing before they settled in to make out and get off and fall asleep on the couch – christening the new bong.

And Nick knew better than to creep off and vanish on him when they'd gotten high together. He knew damn well Chris could get real paranoid, ever since that time Chris had phoned Kevin - _Kevin_ \- in a fit of panic because he was higher than a kite and Nick had been kidnapped by someone – or, as turned out to be the case – gone to use the can. Chris could feel his heart rate start to pick up. He forced himself to take a long slow breath of the slightly stale air of the den, and ask himself some logical questions.

There had definitely been a Nick.

Nick wasn't right here right now.

It was dark and Chris couldn't see anything much.

Could Chris hear anything?

Chris listened, and his mood perked up no end when he deciphered the muted sounds of Frank Sinatra creeping along the hallway. He rolled onto the floor, fought his way free of the furry thing, and followed the trail. On his hands and knees. The hall was stripped oak planks, though, which were kind hard, so he used the telephone table to help him find his feet, and kept going towards the blur of light and sound that was bound to contain Nick. Nick and warmth and sunshine and music. Obviously.

Except when he got closer, the light was really really bright, and it made him squint, his eyes pricking with it, and it was a good job it was his kitchen, and he could find his way around on autopilot and navigate by sounds to find his Nick. Chris found him with his finger tips, and then wrapped his arms firmly round Nick's waist and buried his face in between Nick's shoulder blades where the light couldn't get him.

"Hey! You ok? I thought you were sleeping the sleep of the dead, dude," Nick rumbled.

"You vanished."

"I'm right here, babe."

"Why here and not there with the warm?"

"I'm starving, and those cookies you've got in there, they're just – they're not hitting the spot, you know? And I was thinking about what would be good, and I though, rice crispie cakes, like, out of nowhere. But then I was lying there, in the dark, thinking about rice crispie treats, and man – I had to come look, and you have everything in here! Really. You even have marshmallows. They're going to rock."

"'Course I've got marshmallows – you never know when there might be vampires."

Nick looked over his shoulder at Chris, and even with the bright glare of kitchen lights and Chris's lack of glasses he could see the question. Chris rolled his eyes. "Spike? God, have you been under a rock? You have, you've been under a rock!"

He started prodding Nick in the side, right above the waistband of his sweats where there was that bit of softness Nick hated but Chris kinda liked, which made Nick squirm and wriggle, and twist round to pinch at Chris with grabby fingers, so Chris had to brave the lights to defend his honour with more tickling and poking and taunting, until Nick screeched and dropped his wooden spoon to go into full pursuit, and when they finally landed, weak with giggling, on the floor in the corner of the units, Nick managed to reach around above his head until he hooked the bowl down. Chris insisted his victor's prize should be that Nick was going to break off still-warm chunks of squishy syrupy rice crispie treat and feed them to him, mouth to mouth. It was a good prize, getting to be Nick's.


End file.
